The tutu boo-boo.
Yesterday was the day to be out and about. I had off for the football game (thank god), so we had a tailgate at our place before heading over there. I was pretty suspicious of Meg's gas grill, as every time I connected the tank to the grill, a stinky cloud of gas surrounded me. So, we modified the plan and plugged in the George Foreman on the porch, and grilled them outside that way. Hey, if you're not cute, you may as well be clever.
The game was a lot of fun and every time I go I get so sad that I have my alottment of one game per year. The night before I was in Milwaukee to see the Capitol Steps (utterly hilarious), so I was pretty tired from the early morning car ride into town. So, upon coming back I tried to get some reading done but really just collapsed into a pile and slept for nearly four hours. Then I got all my makeup on and transformed into the Black Swan and headed out to Laura's. We hung around her place for a while, and then Meg, Mark, and Mark's cousin Michael showed up on a way to a party, and Laura and I ended up going out with them, although we had originally planned to go to some party at the Viking House. (I apologize for that monstrously long sentence there. Sometimes these things need to be done.) So the five of us, a motley and nerdy crew consisting of: Mark as Luke Skywalker, Meg as a fetching Princess Leia, Laura as Kortana from Halo, and the Black Swan are wobbling down Langdon towards this party. One girl came up to me, fluffed my tutu, said I had a really great costume, and then, as she was walking away, turned to her friends and said, "I thought that was a guy."
Really? Did you miss the 34Ds?
After that blow to my self-esteem, we arrived at said party, which was small and nice and not obnoxious as Halloween parties in Madison often are. It was one of those where it was my roommates-boyfriends-cousins-friends-friends party, and oddly enough, it was hosted by a girl I used to work with before she (wisely) quit after her first football game. The hosts were generous with the liquor and Michael insisted that I do shots with them (my first), and then the watermelon vodka was flowing. The costume ended up being an excuse for my ridiculous dance style, because whenever I would get a weird look for backing-it-up-like-a-ballerina, the obvious explanation was that I WAS a ballerina. Laura broke out the West African Chicken on several occasions, a move only hightened in shock value by the purple spandex body suit she was wearing. I had designs on Michael's hot friend Matt, who dressed up as a hilariously convincing emo kid, but he apparently had the hots for the former-coworker, who was a slutty Viking. Although, said Viking was passed out in the bathroom when we left.
On the way home, we all stopped at Laura's so I could pick up my purse from her apartment. On the way, I think on Henry St, we ran into a gaggle of Storm Troopers hanging out on a porch, who immediately flocked to Meg's convincing Leia. It was an awkward moment, as these guys were obviously turned on by Meg's (hair) buns, as Luke Skywalker was blue balled on the sidewalk. Laura went tearing down the street (there was something about that body suit that made her move in the most surprising of ways), so I ran after her, flapping my arms in true Swan Lake fashion. The dressy black shoes I was wearing (pointe shoes would be a joke with all that walking) have bad traction in the best of conditions, so when I hit a pile of dead leaves, my left leg was no longer under me, and I fell in the street in a way that only dancers can. The Storm Troopers, meanwhile, were still chatting up Meg, and one of them broke away from the group to run over and see if I was okay. He was very hot and very concerned. Good Sir Storm Trooper, you had me at, "Seriously, are you sure you're okay?"
After Laura's, Luke, Leia, and the Lake walked home across the city. We stopped at Acropolis for shitty drinking food (delicious) and gawked at all the people who were significantly more drunk than we were. I slept like the death until almost noon, when Meg, sans buns, woke me up to cuddle and look at pictures from the night. My ass hurts from falling. And the sparkles on the bodice of my tutu were rough and scratched my chest and arms all to pieces.
So today I napped and watched shitty movies and occasionally roused the brain function necessary for reading psychological papers on response modulation deficits in psychopaths. Why can't all weekends be like this?
The game was a lot of fun and every time I go I get so sad that I have my alottment of one game per year. The night before I was in Milwaukee to see the Capitol Steps (utterly hilarious), so I was pretty tired from the early morning car ride into town. So, upon coming back I tried to get some reading done but really just collapsed into a pile and slept for nearly four hours. Then I got all my makeup on and transformed into the Black Swan and headed out to Laura's. We hung around her place for a while, and then Meg, Mark, and Mark's cousin Michael showed up on a way to a party, and Laura and I ended up going out with them, although we had originally planned to go to some party at the Viking House. (I apologize for that monstrously long sentence there. Sometimes these things need to be done.) So the five of us, a motley and nerdy crew consisting of: Mark as Luke Skywalker, Meg as a fetching Princess Leia, Laura as Kortana from Halo, and the Black Swan are wobbling down Langdon towards this party. One girl came up to me, fluffed my tutu, said I had a really great costume, and then, as she was walking away, turned to her friends and said, "I thought that was a guy."
Really? Did you miss the 34Ds?
After that blow to my self-esteem, we arrived at said party, which was small and nice and not obnoxious as Halloween parties in Madison often are. It was one of those where it was my roommates-boyfriends-cousins-friends-friends party, and oddly enough, it was hosted by a girl I used to work with before she (wisely) quit after her first football game. The hosts were generous with the liquor and Michael insisted that I do shots with them (my first), and then the watermelon vodka was flowing. The costume ended up being an excuse for my ridiculous dance style, because whenever I would get a weird look for backing-it-up-like-a-ballerina, the obvious explanation was that I WAS a ballerina. Laura broke out the West African Chicken on several occasions, a move only hightened in shock value by the purple spandex body suit she was wearing. I had designs on Michael's hot friend Matt, who dressed up as a hilariously convincing emo kid, but he apparently had the hots for the former-coworker, who was a slutty Viking. Although, said Viking was passed out in the bathroom when we left.
On the way home, we all stopped at Laura's so I could pick up my purse from her apartment. On the way, I think on Henry St, we ran into a gaggle of Storm Troopers hanging out on a porch, who immediately flocked to Meg's convincing Leia. It was an awkward moment, as these guys were obviously turned on by Meg's (hair) buns, as Luke Skywalker was blue balled on the sidewalk. Laura went tearing down the street (there was something about that body suit that made her move in the most surprising of ways), so I ran after her, flapping my arms in true Swan Lake fashion. The dressy black shoes I was wearing (pointe shoes would be a joke with all that walking) have bad traction in the best of conditions, so when I hit a pile of dead leaves, my left leg was no longer under me, and I fell in the street in a way that only dancers can. The Storm Troopers, meanwhile, were still chatting up Meg, and one of them broke away from the group to run over and see if I was okay. He was very hot and very concerned. Good Sir Storm Trooper, you had me at, "Seriously, are you sure you're okay?"
After Laura's, Luke, Leia, and the Lake walked home across the city. We stopped at Acropolis for shitty drinking food (delicious) and gawked at all the people who were significantly more drunk than we were. I slept like the death until almost noon, when Meg, sans buns, woke me up to cuddle and look at pictures from the night. My ass hurts from falling. And the sparkles on the bodice of my tutu were rough and scratched my chest and arms all to pieces.
So today I napped and watched shitty movies and occasionally roused the brain function necessary for reading psychological papers on response modulation deficits in psychopaths. Why can't all weekends be like this?